


Winner

by LegolasLovely



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dwarf Culture & Customs, Fluff, Prompt Fic, Sibling Rivalry, Suggestive Themes, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25187233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegolasLovely/pseuds/LegolasLovely
Summary: FantasticallyTragical (also CassiaBaggins on tumblr) asked who would win an arm wrestling match- Kíli or Fíli?The geeky ask answer isherebut I also wanted to write about it! Happy Fíli Friday!
Relationships: Fíli (Tolkien)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	Winner

“Brother against brother!” Dwalin yelled, lifting his mug of ale high into the air with such force, it caused beer to slosh down his arm. **  
**

You threw a napkin down on the wet spot on the floor and mopped it up with your boot. The last thing you needed was someone falling and breaking their neck because of your friends’ recklessness and your One’s pride.

“I wish you wouldn’t encourage them,” you said with a playful elbow wedged into Dwalin’s ribs.

“It’s harmless!” he boomed. “Balin and I used to do the same quite often.” He leaned down to you with a smirk. “But I always won.”

“I’m sure,” you said.

Fíli and Kíli were sharing a table, sat across from one another in the busy pub. Were they sharing a peaceful drink? Discussing the art or literature they’d consumed in the past week? Planning a quiet, enjoyable way to pass the remainder of the evening? No. Alas, the two brothers were _arm_ _wrestling_. Because how else does one spend his time after living for three quarters of a century?

Though you rolled your eyes, crossed your arms over your chest, tapped your foot, and even gave the occasional emphatic sigh, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride and affection for the two idiots below. They were _your_ idiots. And it was said with a love that knew no bounds. 

But this was getting old. They’d been at it for far too long to stifle any kind of embarrassment for either one of them. The older couldn’t beat the younger. The archer couldn’t beat the swordsman. The lion or the wolf? The dark or the fair? You were sure it would never be settled this way. 

So you stepped up to the table and set your hands down, one on each side of the battlefield. 

“Careful now, kurduwê,” Fíli said. “I wouldn’t want Kíli’s fist to land on your poor fingers when he loses.”

Kíli’s laugh was a bit strained. “Nevermind, (Y/N). You’ll be fine as long as you stay where you are. It’s Fíli’s hand that will fall. You just wait.”

Though Fíli and Kíli’s eyes were trained on each other’s, yours were free to study the faces of the opponents. You could have laughed. They looked like animals- noses scrunched like a pig’s snout, teeth gritted together like the little rounds of a donkey’s mouth, chins jutted out like angry roosters- all coated in sweat like greasy, ale smelling slime.

“If we wait any longer I’m sure both your faces will stay like that for the rest of time. And what a shame that would be.”

“Don’t be sweet to us now,” Kíli said to you, baring his teeth even further in a burst of strength that moved Fíli’s fist less than hair’s length before it snapped back to the center. 

You straightened and held back a groan of disbelief and utter annoyance. Instead, you held your head high and pushed every negative feeling from your mind. Such thoughts wouldn’t stop your friends. But you knew how to bring a certain dwarf to his breaking point.

A delicate hand followed the back of Fíli’s chair, one finger barely touching his shoulders, as you circled around him to his free side. Your boot nudged his, kicking his foot out from under the table and into your view. The manipulation made his fighting arm wobble.

“(Y/N), what are you doing?” he asked.

You stepped between his legs and sat on his steady thigh which became your front row seat for the show. After running your nails up his free arm- letting them catch on the fabric of his tunic and tug to display a furry forearm- you allowed your fingers to settle around the nape of his neck. “Fíli,” you sang in his ear. “I’d like to go home now.”

“In a moment, kurduwê.”

“I know, I know,” you said, tucking his free arm around your waist. “You want to stay out with your friends, but seeing you like this has made me very impatient.” A fingertip left a trail through the thick beard on his cheek. “You understand.”

He grunted, sending his bicep bulging under his tunic as he pushed harder against Kíli’s power. A bead of sweat trickled along his hairline and down his neck as he said, “I don’t understand. I thought we were having a nice time to-together.” _Push. Bulge. Wince. Grunt._

You glanced at Kíli, willing him to find some sort of super strength in that ale sloshing gut of his, but his arm didn’t budge. It was still up to you.

“How do I make this clear for you, Fíli?” you asked, allowing your voice to ride the wave of sweetness and caress the shore of passion. You swept his sweat slick braids over his shoulder, opening the curtain to his smooth, flushed skin. “I’d like _you_ to take me home now,” you said.

“You can take him, lad!”

“Come on, now! You’re stronger than that!”

“Who wants to make a bet?”

All the voices in the tavern covered your own but you were sure Fíli heard your words and knew your exact meaning. 

“Oh.”

You hummed, kissing under his ear, over to his cheek, and on the turn of his jaw. Though you were surrounded by patrons, you were sure with all the tavern’s raucous, no one but Fíli would notice your hand travelling down his chest, over his belly, and lower…

 _Slam_!

“Kíli wins!”

Kíli leapt to his feet, sending his stool crashing to the floor. “Yes! I knew it all along! I’m the stronger one!” he cried, shaking out his sore arm.

“I was distracted!” Fíli cried. He eyed you as he whined, but you watched his pitiful pout grow into a wide smile- pink lips, deep dimples, wagging mustaches.

“You’ll always be first place to me,” you said.

He chuckled. “I want you to remember that when Kíli is still bragging about this night in ninety years.”

“Oh, what have I done?”

Fíli hummed, but it turned to a growl as he lifted you from his lap. He led you through the barflies, most of whom cheered for his brother though some patted him on the back with well wishes.

“Chin up, lad,” Dwalin said with a harsh squeeze to the back of Fíli’s neck. “There will always come a day when the younger surpasses the older.”

Fíli gave you a good pinch for laughing at that. Then he yelled for Kíli. “Buy everyone a round on me!”

The tavern erupted with hearty bellows and thrusting fists. The patrons switched teams as if their spines were made of noodles- first cheering the hero who won their bets for them, then the generous buyer, before turning back to the champion. “Cheers to the winner!” echoed through the tavern.

Fíli led you out the door into the cool, quiet night. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around your waist and sliding warm hands up your back. “Cheers to me,” he said before he kissed your lips. 

It seemed you would enjoy the remainder of your night after all. 


End file.
